Something In Between
by TempeJill
Summary: Finale follow-up speculation for the premiere. She has had plenty of time to decide what she wants for the future... but so has he. Twoshot, from both perspectives.
1. The Scientist

**Alright, some of you are no doubt wondering what this is, and why it is NOT an update of some other stories that I've been... well, neglecting, to be quite honest. **

**This, right here, is a oneshot following a possibility for what I would love to see in the season premiere. **

**Yes, I said it is a _oneshot_. (Knowing me, at some point it might become more. As if I don't have enough to do already.)**

**Why haven't I updated my other stories? Well, that's pretty simple. It's called _writer's block_, and I officially HATE it. So, take this as a sign that I'm atleast capable of still writing, after I totally lost inspiration to do anything Bones related for a very long time. I'm coming back, really, I promise.**

**Anyways, to all of you that really don't care what this crazy author is babbling about, I hope you enjoy this story.**

**I don't own Bones. If I did, there would have been a very long and tearful hug in that airport. No, not a kiss. That would have left them wondering for a year, on their own, what it meant. Hodgins got a hug. Booth should have got one too. A better one. **

**Rant over. Please, do read on. *bows*  
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* * *

Before Booth, life was different.

Before Booth, I was alone.

Before Booth, I felt lost in the world.

Before Booth, I didn't know what it was like to be happy.

_After_ Booth... I am broken.

* * *

A slight shadow crosses my face as I sit eating my solitary breakfast in the middle of my silent kitchen. A bird lets out a faint chirp in a sad little tree behind my apartment building, but I barely notice it. My fork drifts up to my mouth, laden with soggy scrambled eggs, and I blink away the moisture that the sunlight had built up in my eyes.

Today promises to be cloudy, or at least the weather man claims so. The shadow over my face, though, passes rather quickly, and it isn't a solid mass, either, but a mere wisp. According to how hot it is already, at seventy degrees when it's only eight o'clock, I'm betting it will be a perfectly humid summer day with the sun beating down on everything in sight.

I ditch the eggs before they make me sick. I had managed to add far too much milk to the mixture before frying it, and they turned out terribly. The orange juice tastes funny as well, and I toss it down the drain. It really shouldn't surprise me, that nothing tastes appetizing. What would, anymore, when it's tinged the way it is with memories that I'm still trying to stave off? And every time they roll around, I'm distracted and I can't focus. Last night, I nearly burned down my building trying to make myself a bagel.

I should be concerned by this, but I can't seem to muster up enough effort to care.

Indonesia was not nearly as exciting as I had expected. I had found myself counting the days down until my return, feeling that nervous anticipation that things might go wrong, but yet not able to fight off the heady feeling of hope that perhaps they would go right for once.

I was at the coffee cart, at noon on the dot, one year from the day that we had said goodbye in that airport. I was waiting, staring across the small ripples in the water. It had been a slightly windy day... a few clouds drifting lazily over the sky and decorating the tourists' photographs of the Washington Monument. I had drank down my third cup of coffee before reality began to set in. Maybe he wasn't going to come. I began to look around more fearfully, my eyes flickering between faces, pleading internally for his to appear magically in the crowd and come confidently towards me with that boyish grin lighting up and showing me he was just as excited to see me as I was to see him.

Only, that didn't happen.

My phone, however, did ring.

I nearly answered it with 'Bones' in my eagerness for it to be him, with some silly explanation of a flight delay and a promise that he'd be there in an hour... but instead it was Angela.

"Sweetie, it's so good to hear your voice! Jack and I just got in at the airport, and we were wondering if you wanted to come get some dinner with us... we haven't talked in ages, and letters really don't cover all the stories that we've got to tell you. I'm sure you've got some pretty wild ones from that jungle, too."

"I can't," I had managed to get out after a breathless moment. "I'm... waiting for Booth. He was... he was supposed to meet me at the Reflecting Pool."

"Oh." Her murmur was soft, and heavy with a burden of knowledge that she clearly didn't want to share. At once, I was blinded with fear. "Bren, Booth told me... he said you knew... he's staying for another month. Listen, I don't know why you didn't already know, but I'm really sorry. I'm sure he'll call."

And he did call, a few hours later. By then, I was home and showered, unable to bring myself to unpack. My mind was far too busy racing through scenarios and explanations, all of them pushing me further towards a breaking point that I knew I couldn't handle. There was a reason why I had left, and that was because I had needed the time to think about what direction my life was heading in. The murder investigations weren't making me happy anymore. They weren't... enough. More and more, I began to crave human contact over the mysteries of the dead. I had begun to enjoy spending time after work with Booth than I had at my actual job. It had scared me far more than I would have liked to admit, mostly because my work would never disappear, and any day something could happen to take Booth away forever. I was safer if my greatest love was a secure position at the museum.

The only thing I had been able to think of that would solve the problem would be if I were to go back to what I had loved originally, and take part in the dig going on in the Maluku Islands. It would remind me of who I was and what was important to me, and then I could go back to doing my job the way I had always done it. Both of us would benefit from the time apart.

Only, I had come to realize within a few short months that it didn't matter where I was. The work was fascinating. It was enjoyable. But it didn't make me nearly as happy as it used to. I felt lost, like I was alone at sea with no navigation equipment. This wasn't something I was used to... emotions weren't supposed to rule my decisions. And yet, I wanted to be happy... and I already knew what it was that made me the happiest. Before Booth, I wasn't the same. I was sad... I was isolated. When he was around, I felt lighter. When I woke up in the morning, I wanted to go to work mostly to see him. When I was alone, my thoughts strayed to him. When I heard a joke, I wondered automatically if he knew it. When I discovered something about pop culture that I hadn't known before, I wanted to tell it to him and see the laughter shine in his eyes.

On the phone, though, he sounded tired. He sounded... _different_. He sounded like he'd put a lot of thought into his life and his future... and he'd come out on a side that I wasn't on anymore.

He told me that he was coming back in a month, but that he wasn't resuming work with the FBI. He was retiring. He was _moving on_.

And in that moment, I understood exactly what it was to have a metaphorical broken heart. I'd been hurt before... by my parents leaving, by my brother taking off, by the isolation I had faced through school, by the constant reminders that I was simply incapable of the normality of understanding emotions which everyone else seemed to catch on to so easily... by his faked death two years ago.

This wasn't quite the same, though. This was a choice he was making. This was Booth making up his mind not to come back and try again. This was him giving up on me, for good.

And I realized that I really didn't deserve any better.

I was the one that had put in place this year away from each other concept. I was the one that had decided I needed the time to figure my life out. It wasn't his fault that the year had taught him I wasn't worth it... it was mine. I had come to the decision that I couldn't live without him... he'd come to the decision that he couldn't live with me. If I hadn't hesitated, if I had been able to make up my mind over a year ago when he'd just asked me to _try_... none of this would have happened.

He had every right to just forget me and go on with his life.

And if this was what he truly wanted? Well, I wasn't going to stop him. Even if it tore my heart in two.

He came back last week. I called Cam and asked her if she would mind picking him up at the airport... I didn't think I'd be able to face him. She had been surprised by my call, but she didn't seem to mind much.

I've been to the Jeffersonian only twice since I returned from my trip. The first time was to attempt working. The second was to turn in my letter of resignation and collect my belongings from my office.

I can't work there anymore. Nothing holds the same passion anymore, and even when I was back there, in the familiar setting, it didn't ring true. It felt fake... forced, almost.

It felt the way it had in those days following his death, when I had buried myself in my work as a method of fighting back my emotions. This time, though, I'm not going to let it be the same. He is gone from my life; it's a fact I'm going to have to quickly learn to accept, or I'm never going to be able to survive.

Only, I can't handle it as easily as I had foolishly been hoping. Booth has been such a large figure in my life for the past six years that it's impossible to forget him. A small part of me likes to prod my brain every now and then with the horribly painful reminder that if I can't forget _him_, how little would I have to mean to him for him to be able to just move on and forget _me_?

At the same time, I feel betrayed. I feel like I gave everything I had to our partnership, our _friendship_, and when I got scared he simply gave up entirely. I feel like I've lost the greatest thing I ever had, all when I was just getting ready to try for something I never could have imagined I'd be agreeing to.

I never got the chance, though.

Some part of me wonders what happened over there. He went to train soldiers to fight, but what _happened_ specifically? Did he get involved? Did he have to kill more people? Did he so foolishly decide to be the hero when I had practically begged him not to?

I take some solace from the fact that he is very much alive and well. It's just about the only comfort I can offer myself nowadays.

And maybe someday he'll be happy. He'll find that someone that can love him back in the way he wanted me to. He can get married, and have children... and he'll be glad of the choice he made, because he'll know it wouldn't have turned out that way if he'd tried to stay with me. I might know that I need him, but I can tell, just the same, that I'm not good enough for him. Doesn't he deserve a woman that won't argue with him over every little thing, who wants a traditional relationship that turns into a traditional marriage and then a traditional family? That wouldn't be how we would have turned out, I know that for certain.

I do wonder, though, some of these days, if I would have been happy. Would a life with Booth have made me a different person? Would it have brought me the kind of joy that I used to see between my parents? Would my views have changed? Would we have had children, at some point, and would that have made me proud?

It's foolish to think about what might have changed if the path we'd taken had only been slightly different, but I do it anyways. My imagination runs wild with images of things that I will never have, and I'm helpless to stop it from happening because it's just about the only hold on some semblance of happiness that I have left to myself.

As I'm tucking the dirty plate into my dishwasher, I hear a hesitant knock on my door.

Angela's been by several times to check up on me, and for the most part she seems to think I'm doing okay. Mostly, I think she's just relieved that I'm not emotionlessly plowing through Limbo to solve my problems. I think she's under some sort of illusion that I'm taking this time to figure out how to solve the situation with Booth, and then everything will go back to normal. So far, I've been unable to work up the courage to tell her it isn't going to happen.

I'm expecting it to be her, and so I'm shocked when I peer through my peephole and find that it's Booth standing out in my hall, looking incredibly nervous and playing with the wrapping around what appears to be a bouquet of daffodils.

I'm feeling just as nervous as I open the door and stand there staring at him.

He smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes, and then he offers me the flowers and simply says, "Hey, Bones."

I fight back the tears that spring up so ridiculously in my eyes, and I accept the flowers. What can I say to him? And why is he even here, in the first place?

The smile fades as I search for a response better than 'Hi, Booth,' and I immediately realize that he's taking my silence in a very negative way. I try to offer him a smile of reassurance, but I'm sure that it doesn't look very reassuring at all. I step out of the way as an invitation for him to come in, and for some crazy reason I'm relieved when he does so.

I still have absolutely no idea what to do, or what to say. I've done so much thinking about my standing with him over the past year that to have him right in front of me seems remarkably surreal. I have to remind myself quite a few times, while I'm putting the flowers in a vase and setting it on my table, that this is him being nice. This is not him deciding to fight for something between us. He's just being the man that he's always been, and tying up the loose ends. Here, he will explain why he's decided to move on, and then most likely proceed to give me advice and such and tell me that he knows I'll find somebody perfect for me... etcetera, etcetera. I know him well enough to understand all of that.

I just don't want to hear it.

"Sorry I wasn't at the Reflecting Pool," he says, breaking the fresh silence that has settled over us. I realize suddenly that I haven't even spoken a single word to him yet.

I shake my head. "No, it's okay. You were... busy. It was important. You don't have to worry about me. I was... I was fine."

It sounds like a terrible lie, and by the way his eyes soften, I can tell right away that he's seen through it.

More silence.

"You quit the Jeffersonian." It isn't a question, and I bite my lip and look away. "Why?"

"You quit the FBI," I say in response. It's a double meaning. A retort to his almost accusation as well as an answer to his question.

He seems to consider for a second, and then he sighs and looks away.

"This last year..." he starts, "I thought a lot about... us." I'm immediately grateful that he isn't looking at me, because if he was, he would see the intense sorrow that I know just crossed my face. It is one thing to know that the person you love doesn't love you back. It's entirely another for them to tell you it, and I know that it's coming any moment now. "I didn't want to come back to the FBI, because it meant going back to normal. And... I don't want things to go back to normal."

"Neither do I," I find myself saying, and I hardly believe the words have escaped. He doesn't seem to believe it either, by the way his eyes are suddenly locked with mine and his eyebrows are raised.

"What do you..?" he starts to say, but trails off, frowning in confusion.

"Nothing," I say at once, self-preservation instincts taking over and scolding that stupid brainless part of me that made me spill those words out only a moment before.

He doesn't seem to believe me, but he slowly goes back to what he was saying, the frown not entirely disappearing from his face. His eyes stay on mine now, and I feel trapped.

"Bones, I didn't leave the FBI because I wanted to get away from you." Now my eyes widen, even though I try to hide my surprise. He stops immediately, his gaze filling with sadness. "That's what you thought, didn't you?" he asks at last.

I give a broken little nod, breaking my gaze away from him and staring at my carpet a few feet to his right.

He sighs softly, and then I see him shift towards me out of the corner of my eye. Before I can react, he's pulled me into his arms and wrapped them securely around me, burying me against his chest. Instinct tells me to push him away and flee at once, but too much of me is enjoying this, despite the fact that I know it won't last. That pesky hopeful feeling has come rushing back, and I'm not ready to let it go again just yet.

His face is bent next to my ear as he says the next words, "Bones, I need you. I just didn't know if I could bare working with you every day, and knowing that you didn't feel the same way."

At once, I stiffen, but before I can even begin to explain the truth, he's talking again and not letting me get a word in edgewise.

"Only, I still know you better than anyone else, Bones. I gave you time, and space... and then I gave you more time and space that you weren't expecting, and you were upset with that."

I nod, finding that I can't seem to form words at the moment.

"Clearly, you don't want me to stop working with you... but is that because you want the partnership, or because of something else?" I know that he really means this question, and that he's been struggling with it. I can tell just from the way he asks it, and at once I'm filled with the need to answer it for him.

"Something else," I whisper so softly that I'm afraid he won't have heard, but a moment later he gently kisses the top of my head, and I know that he understands.

"So what is it, Bones?" he asks gently. "Where do we go from here?"

He has so much more faith in me than I have had in him for the past month, and I'm overwhelmed with guilt, but I know I can't miss this moment. There will be plenty of time for apologies later, even if I don't think he'll find it that important in the long run. That's just one of the many things about him that I've come to learn over the years. He understands me, and I understand him. We bounce back and forth, and I love that more than I could probably ever express.

"First we get our jobs back," I whisper, pulling my head away from him so I can meet his eyes. "And then... I stop being the scientist, you stop being the gambler... and together we'll be something in between."

"We'll be the center," he says softly in response, and his eyes sparkle before his lips descend to mine. "...And we'll always hold."

* * *

**Feedback? Pretty please, with a cherry on top? I'm very eager to hear what you all thought of this one, especially because I'm not normally a first-person sort of writer, especially when it comes to characters like Brennan. I'm just hoping I did her justice. :)  
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	2. The Gambler

**Alright, hello again everyone :) You can thank all the reviewers and especially bones35 for the fact that this second (and last) chapter exists. Couldn't resist going back to add Booth's POV on the whole thing. And, in addition, I wanted to THANK all of you who reviewed or favorited this story; while I may not respond to my reviews (I know, I'm terrible with that, and I always feel bad) I want you all to know that each and every one is very, very appreciated. **

**So, without further ado, I hope you all enjoy this second chapter! (And I still don't own Bones)**

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Before Bones, life was simple.

Before Bones, I was different.

Before Bones, I was alone.

Before Bones, I didn't know what to do with myself.

_Without _Bones... I'm lost.

* * *

The sunlight on my face is what wakes me up, and even then I'm far too tired to bother even looking at the clock. I'm well aware that I've been in bed for an unreasonable amount of time. I should already be up, showered, and finished eating. Hell, I _should_ be at the office digging through paperwork. I _should_ be wondering about how my team is doing. I _should_ be going over to see them, see _her_, right now. Maybe I should even already _be _there.

But that's not how things are working out.

My head pounds, and my eyes burn with the barely-there light coming in through the edge of the shade. I groan and pull the pillow over my head. Drinking myself into a mindless stupor the night before had _not_ been the wisest decision I'd ever made. I hadn't been that depressed in... a long time. Maybe it was the realization that things weren't going to fix themselves that did it, although that really should have happened ages ago. I'm still not even sure why it took this long to set in... maybe it was some sort of self-preservation mechanism that didn't _want_ me to figure it out. And if it was... well, it certainly had good reason to try and protect me, given how well I handled it.

I'm going to have to restock my alcohol collection, seeing as I'm pretty sure I dried it all up. I might be wrong, though, since the details of yesterday night are a little worse than hazy.

I do feel somewhat terrible about leaving her to wait for me at the coffee cart last month. Only somewhat, though, given how much thinking I've gotten in over the past year we've spent apart. She was the one that wanted the separation. She was the one that thought it was a great idea to take off on some trip to the Mala-whatever islands. She was the one that thought it would be good for me to go back to the army while she was gone. Maybe that was her form of guilt... wanting me to be doing something far away just so she wouldn't feel like she was doing the abandoning. Whatever it was, though, it didn't work.

I still feel like she left me, like she made the choice. Deep down, I know that she needed the time. Hell, maybe she _still _needs the goddamn time, but I'm just so... tired. I don't know what to do anymore, and reality sure isn't matching up the way I'd like it to with my fantasy world. In my perfect world, she'd be waking up here beside me. I'd be getting up to make her French toast and eggs, and she'd come into the kitchen and kiss me on the cheek. We'd head off to work together, and spend the day hunting down clues, looking over skeletons, and poring through files over lunch at the Diner while she snatched my fries and I attempted to get her to try just a bite of pie off of my own fork.

Instead, I'm lying here at around ten or so in the morning with a terrible hangover, wondering where she is and what she's doing.

My time in the desert didn't do me much good. I reverted fairly easily back into the war-hardened man that I had been back in the old days, and it wasn't hard getting into the proper mindset for training the soldiers. The whole time, though, a part of me was elsewhere. I worried, day in and day out, about what could happen to her in those jungles. I'd seen Hodgins preparing some sort of chart about all the poisonous stuff she might run into, and that was only part of the trouble I knew she could find out there. What if something had happened to her while she was away from me? What if I just never got to see her again at all?

Then, of course, the months had waned down until it was only a week until my departure back to DC. In a mere week, I would be seeing her again. The shock of that sent me into a flurry of realizations, and finally I came to the conclusion that I just _couldn't_ see her. They were happy to have me for another month, and during that time I managed to explain to myself exactly why I had stayed. When I'd made the decision, it had been very last minute and sudden... I hadn't really understood it myself.

The first thing had been to make sure someone knew, so she wouldn't panic. I might not want to see her, but I certainly didn't want her to worry about me being hurt, or dead, or missing... none of that. I wouldn't want her to put me through that, and I sure as hell wasn't going to do it to her. Not after my whole faked death fiasco, and how much I knew that had upset her. She might have hidden her feelings on it, but I knew her well enough to see that she'd been a total wreck. For one, I'd found my key out of place under my fake rock, and some of my picture frames had been moved around in my apartment. A few of my shirts had gone missing. Yes, she'd felt the effects of my death. I never brought it up, but I knew.

I called Angela, because I knew that Bones would see straight through me. She'd be suspicious about why I was staying longer, and I didn't think I could handle being questioned by her. Hell, I didn't think I'd be able to hear her _voice_ without losing it. Angela had been confused, but it was easy enough to manipulate her into thinking that Brennan was totally aware of the situation without outright lying about it.

Next, I started trying to figure out exactly what I was going to do upon my return to DC, because I couldn't just hide out indefinitely from her. And Parker was sure to be missing me, too.

There was no denying that things had changed between us. They had changed the moment I had pressed my lips against her and practically begged her to try for a relationship with me. They had changed the moment she said no. They had changed the moment we walked away, the moment we attempted to work as though nothing had changed... every second between us was different, was unpredictable. Everything was weird and out of focus and for once I had not a clue about what to do to fix it. All I had wanted was for her to try for _us_, and she wasn't willing. I couldn't change her decision... I knew her well enough to know that she wasn't going to suddenly switch her mindset and decide to go for it. Her walls were partially up. She was being careful around me, even though she tried to act like everything was perfectly normal.

Normal was long gone.

Normal wasn't coming back.

That had been another part of my problem, that normal just wasn't going to be restored. We were at a crossroads, and things could go one of two ways. We could either move forward, together, or we could fall apart completely. I couldn't go on acting like it didn't matter to me that she was turning me down. I couldn't pretend that it didn't break my heart every time she pushed me away even slightly. I needed to know that she loved me, or wanted to try to love me... or that she didn't at all and wasn't going to try. I couldn't have any more of this 'partners' stuff that she wanted to cling to. She was my best friend, the one person that I loved more than anything else in the world besides Parker, and losing her would kill me. But hanging on and waiting for the day that _she_ moved on of her own volition... that would be far worse.

I called Hacker the day I made up my mind not to return to DC, and I told him that I was considering retirement. I was ready to give up my life as an FBI agent, and try something different. It wasn't like I could keep working the same job without her... that would be self-torture, and I couldn't even bare the idea. Nothing was going to be the same, so I might as well start fresh. I could move away, get a job as a cop, or something. I wasn't sure yet, but I knew that DC was a chapter of my life I couldn't keep dwelling on. Not if Bones wasn't willing to try for us.

The day that I was supposed to be meeting her at the Reflecting Pool, I fought with myself for hours on end, trying to work up the courage to call her. I hoped she would talk to Angela and find out that I wasn't coming back until the next month, because I really didn't want her sitting alone for hours wondering where I was. As the night approached, I knew I didn't have an option. I had to call her and make some sort of... explanation. And I had to tell her I was leaving the FBI. I didn't want her finding out from Hacker, and if I knew her well enough, I knew she probably hadn't talked to him at all. As far as I knew, they had pretty much broken up before her departure for the islands.

She sounded almost... hopeful, when she picked up the phone. And I could tell that she had probably been fighting back tears, too, from the pitch of her voice. At once, I felt terrible. But I could hardly go back on what I'd planned to tell her. Things were already in motion. It was up to her to interpret them however she would... and it was up to her to decide what the future would hold. She was the one that got to pick if we tried for something or if we went our separate ways.

As I explained to her that I would be back in a month, but that I wasn't going to be working with the FBI, with _her_, anymore, she got abnormally quiet. She said a few things, questioned how I was doing, but I could tell she was still absorbing what I had told her. Maybe panicking. I wanted to reassure her that if she just fought for us, I would stay through anything to be with her. But I couldn't do that, because it would affect her decision. This was her choice, not mine.

I came away from the call understanding a few things better than I had before. First off, I was going to have one hell of a time trying to stay away from her when I got back. I hadn't heard her voice since that day in the airport, and while we had exchanged a few letters—something challenging given that both of us were mobile in not very civilized locations—it hadn't been the same. She sounded just the same, and the tiny catch in her throat when she had stuttered a response to my proclamation of retirement from the FBI, I'd almost felt tears begin to form in my eyes. God, she had sounded so... she had sounded like the Bones that I loved more than anything in the world.

A small glimmer of hope had been created, too. She had seemed very distressed by my departure from our partnership. More upset by it than someone that cared about our friendship. She'd sounded almost—and I hated myself for being happy about it—heartbroken. There might still be a chance that she wanted something more from the two of us than she had been willing to disclose that night outside the Hoover Building. Maybe she had just been scared. Maybe she had made up her mind about what to do about our situation while she was away.

Still, though, I held back any outright eagerness to see her again. This could still end very badly, and my heart had been through enough hell at her hands already. I've been in love with her practically since that first year we worked together, and the whole time I've had to worry about her not feeling the same way. Her pushing me away that night had pretty much been confirmation, and it had hurt more than anything else ever had. I might take another blow-torched screwdriver to my skin before I have to go through something like that again.

For some crazy reason, I had still been expecting to see her at the airport. I think it might have been a part of my brain that was just so engrained with _her_ that had me convinced of it, but either way it had been a jolt of reality to see a familiar face that was not hers waiting for me at the gates.

Cam had been pleasant, but persistent in her hints that there was something that I _needed_ _to take care of._ When she began to get agitated after I faked not understanding what she was getting at, she had finally just sighed, crossed her arms as we stood next to her car, and informed me very clinically that Brennan had quit her job at the Jeffersonian, permanently, and had cleaned her office out within a day. Not only that, but she apparently hadn't even been around any of the local haunts for the team either, and Angela had only been in limited contact with her.

That was the final straw... finding out that she had quit the job she loved more than anything else in the world. There was not a doubt in my mind that it was because of me. So what did that mean? Did she not want to work at _all_ if it was without me? Was I being egotistical to even put that idea out on the table? But, then again, what other reason was there for her to suddenly give up forensic anthropology and hole herself up in her apartment with apparent plans to do nothing except maybe work on her novels for the rest of her life?

Whatever the reason, it made up my mind about doing _something_. She knew I was back, because I'd given her the date of my return... so I chose to give her a few days to come to me if she wanted. If not, then I would be going to her, because there was no way I wasn't going to make an _attempt_. Not after finding out that I clearly meant so much to her.

And so, here I am today. It took five days for me to lose it and start drinking. There was clearly no logic in it... I mean, what if she had shown up here, last night, and found me in the middle of getting very, very drunk? I could have totally thrown away any last strands of what we might be able to have between us.

This thought propels me out of my bed, and I take an ice cold shower to wake myself up fully. I skip breakfast, not feeling at all like it would be a good idea to eat with the way my stomach is tossing from both nervousness and the effects of the hangover that is just slowly beginning to go away. It turns out to have been around one o'clock when I woke up, but now it's getting closer to two.

I could go see her today, but I'm hesitant about it. After all, I haven't had a very good day so far, and I'm sure I look terrible even after the shower.

I _will_ go see her though. Maybe... if I get myself together, I can figure out what to do for tomorrow. Flowers? She's not really the flower type, I know that... but it seems like a nice peace offering. And I know her well enough to understand that the little things mean a _lot_, even though she pretends they don't. I've glanced Jasper sitting on her nightstand, once, when I was in the middle of a conversation with her and I subconsciously followed her up the hall and stood in her bedroom doorway while we continued to talk. Yes, flowers would be a good idea. Daffodils, I decide with a nod. Her favorite... surely she'll see that as a sign that I care about her?

* * *

I'm up and awake the next morning far too early. I'm not even sure what happened yesterday afternoon, but I know that it went by in a sort of blur while I scrambled around trying to figure out what to wear, what to bring, what to say...

This really shouldn't be affecting me so much, because I know only too well that there is every chance she will break my heart completely in two today, but I can't help it. I want to do whatever I can to avoid that, and the small hope I had been feeling after realizing she had quit her job has been swelling exponentially ever since I made up my mind to go see her.

I truly thought this would never happen... the year apart taught me that there were only two choices, and I had been so sure that she would pick the one that pulled us apart forever. What an idiot, to not have more faith in her. If I really thought about it, though, I couldn't blame myself. I'd been hurt in the past, by my family, by Rebecca... I suppose I had just assumed that once again I had thrown all my heart into making something work, and when I reached the first downhill point it meant it was over and I'd been a complete idiot to have ever pictured a world where it could work.

Well, maybe there was still that bit of hope left for me.

I drove to the florist and picked up the bouquet of daffodils that I planned to give her, and then nervously made my way to her apartment. I was never concerned over if she would be there, after all, it was very early in the morning and she no longer had a job. Nonetheless, seeing her car parked in the lot was still a large weight off my shoulders.

When I reached her floor, I ran a hand nervously through my hair, pausing at the end of the hallway and staring towards her door with apprehension tensing my shoulders. Finally, I worked up the courage to just walk to it, and then stood there for what must have been a good solid minute before I managed to raise a hand and give a few raps of my knuckles.

Absently, my fingers twist the wrapping around the flowers, and I shuffle my feet awkwardly. If she heard me, she must have looked through the peephole by now. It's only a matter of whether or not she'll open the door. She has every right to totally ignore me, after all, since I'm the one that stood her up first.

The door does open, though, and she's standing there before me, looking surprisingly nervous. I barely notice that, though, as I take in the fact that here she is, right in front of me, looking completely stunning in a simple v-neck blue blouse and dark jeans. Her hair doesn't look like it's been getting much attention from the way it frizzes out a bit at the ends, but it glows a soft auburn and nicely accents her eyes. I attempt not to stare, and offer a hesitant smile. I'm still not sure how she'll react... the only thing she's done so far is stare at me like she can't believe I'm actually there. Probably not such a good sign.

"Hey, Bones," I manage to say as I tentatively offer her the flowers.

She reaches out a hand and carefully takes them, and I see her eyes filling with questions... and what appears to be a bit of moisture that she immediately blinks away before averting her eyes entirely.

My smile fades when she doesn't say anything, and I bite my lip, watching as she seemingly has some sort of internal battle. I'm getting prepared for her to just shut the door in my face, but instead she offers a smile in return to mine, a bit late, that looks more like a grimace. For whatever reason, she suddenly, and very hurriedly, steps out of the way and kind of glances inside her apartment and then back at me. Clearly she can't find words to say, but that expresses her intent fairly clearly, and I grin softly as I step past her and into the apartment. Well, this is a small step forward... she's not screaming at me for not coming back on time, or for severing our partnership and pretty much abandoning her.

She's off in her own world as she hurries around the kitchen, digging in cabinets until she finds a vase, and then she sets to work arranging the daffodils in it and adding water. I suspect she's looking for any excuse she can find to distract herself and avoid looking at me.

I take the time to look around her living room while she has her back turned in the kitchen, and find that a picture frame that used to have a picture of the team in it now features one of her and her brother.

"Sorry I wasn't at the Reflecting Pool," I say when she finally steps back into the room with her hands awkwardly around her and her face showing conflicted emotions.

She shakes her head. "No, it's okay. You were... busy. It was important. You don't have to worry about me. I was... I was fine."

She's always been a terrible liar, but when it's me she's completely hopeless. Not once has she ever gotten something past me, and this time is no different. Her eyes flash with pain that she tries to hide at once, but I can't erase the image of its presence there on her beautiful face. She was hurt, _very_ hurt, by my not showing up.

The silence between us continues, and I search for something else to say, because I know that calling her out on the lie isn't the best way to go about this. That will only make her upset, or angry.

"You quit the Jeffersonian," I say calmly. It isn't a question, and she knows it. She bites her lip and looks away. "Why?" I prod carefully.

"You quit the FBI," she says in response. For a moment I consider what that means—is she saying that as an answer, or something else entirely?—and then I sigh and look away.

"This last year... I thought a lot about... us." I pause, and then continue, "I didn't want to come back to the FBI, because it meant going back to normal. And... I don't want things to go back to normal."

"Neither do I," she says softly, and my head at once snaps back to look at her. I see the fear that's swimming in her gaze, and it confuses me just as much as the statement. Desperately, I wish I could read her mind, and know exactly what she's thinking at this very moment.

"What do you..?" I start to say, but then stop and change my mind.

"Nothing," she says instantly, even though I never actually asked a question.

I don't believe her, and I find that now I can't break my eyes away from hers. She needs to understand the truth, and she needs to understand it right now. Because something is telling me that she's afraid... and that's when it hits me that this is _Bones_. She probably thinks I... got sick of her, or _something_, and now I don't want to work with her anymore. She probably thinks I want to move on and forget about her. God, I love the woman, but sometimes she just amazes me. The moment the next words get out, I know that I'm right.

"Bones, I didn't leave the FBI because I wanted to get away from you." Her eyes widen. "That's what you thought, didn't you?" I ask gently.

She gives this broken little nod, and it practically breaks my heart as she tears her gaze away and stares resolutely at the carpet a few feet away from me. I know that she's fighting tears.

I sigh again, shaking my head sadly. How can I blame her for this, though, when I was the one thinking that she would pick the road that pushed me away forever? Clearly we both have issues with abandonment, not just her. Now, I let myself go back to the man that I've always been with her, and I step forward and wrap my arms securely around her. She tenses, and for a second I'm ready to release her, apologize, and move as far away as possible, but then she relaxes and turns her head more fully into the embrace. I smile softly to myself giving her a gentle squeeze. God, this is what I wanted to do every day for that year we were apart, and it feels so good to be able to do it now.

I bend my face so it's next to her ear as I say the words that I know she needs to hear, and have fully explained, more now than ever. "Bones, I need you. I just didn't know if I could bare working with you every day, and knowing that you didn't feel the same way."

At once, she stiffens, and I know right then that I was right all those years. She feels the same way... it was just fear that made her pull back that night outside the Hoover Building. I know her well enough to know that she's about to protest, to explain, but there will be time enough for that later. I have more to say that she needs to hear.

"Only, I still know you better than anyone else, Bones. I gave you time, and space... and then I gave you more time and space that you weren't expecting, and you were upset with that."

She nods against my chest, and I swear that I hear a slight sniffle.

"Clearly, you don't want me to stop working with you... but is that because you want the partnership, or because of something else?" I need this answer with a passion. I _know_ it, in my heart, but... I need to hear it from _her_.

"Something else," She whispers, and I let out the breath that I didn't even know I was holding, a smile spreading hugely across my face before I tilt my head to plant a soft kiss on top of her head.

"So what is it, Bones?" I ask softly after a moment of silence. "Where do we go from here?"

"First we get our jobs back," she whispers, pulling her head away from my chest. Her eyes meet mine, and they are filled with warmth now. "And then... I stop being the scientist, you stop being the gambler... and together we'll be something in between."

I've never heard sweeter words from her.

"We'll be the center," I say softly in response, and grin at her, watching her eyes sparkle softly before lowering my lips to meet hers. "...And we'll always hold."

* * *

**Feedback, por favor? I will try to be good and respond to all of them this time; I don't regularly do it simply because I get my email on my iPod, and it is much more challenging to write responses on that little keyboard (Before you even ask, I don't text. Yes, I am seventeen and my cell phone is a dinosaur and I don't text. I know, I'm weird like that.) This time, though, I will try to get on my computer and write nice responses to everything you all have to say, even if it is criticism. :)  
**


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